


Fool on the Hill

by purewanderlust



Series: Where Angels Fear to Tread [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Multi, Pre-Slash, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purewanderlust/pseuds/purewanderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam receives a phone call at Stanford.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool on the Hill

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt taken from otpdisaster on tumblr, [here](http://otpdisaster.tumblr.com/post/110731939970/person-b-knowing-theyre-undoubtedly-about-to-die). It then spiraled out of control into a three-part, canon-divergent series. Oops.

Sam Winchester settled back into his desk chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. He tilted until the chair was perched on two legs, crossing his arms behind his head. "You planning on coming out of there any time soon?" He called toward the bathroom door, intentionally coloring his tone with faux irritation.

"Not if you keep talking to me like that, I don't!"

Sam laughed. "Hey, that's fine by me. I didn't want to go to this party anyway."

The bathroom door flew open, and Jess stood framed in the doorway, her hands on her hips. She was beautiful as always, golden hair a billowing halo framing her face, wide green eyes sparkling. Her mouth was open in mock outrage, but Sam could read the mirth on her face, in the crinkles at the corners of her eyes. "How dare you! The Confucius Day bonfire is a time-honored tradition for Cardinals."

"How is smoking pot and eating fortune cookies around a campfire time-honored, exactly?"

"It's a long and storied tradition, Sam, do your research."

"I've been here three years and never heard of this party." Sam pointed out, "I think you made it up."

Jessica's green eyes widened. "Sam Winchester, you take that back!" She jumped at him, laughing. She went straight for his ribs, a no-mercy tickle attack.

Sam gasped in surprised before he managed to dance out of reach of her slender fingers. He grabbed her around the waist and swung her down onto the couch, pinning her under his body. "Jess, Jess, Jess." He tisked. "How many times do I have to remind you that I'm bigger than you are?"

 

Jess, of course, played dirty, grabbing a handful of his shaggy brown hair and dragging his mouth down to hers. Sam went more than willingly, pressing her down into the cushions as he deepened the kiss, their tongues sliding together. One of Jess' hands skimmed down his bicep, and then up his spine under the back of his tee-shirt. Sam could feel goosebumps rising under her fingertips. Jess groaned as he rocked his hips down against hers and tugged more insistently on his hair. He slid one of his hands up under her top, relishing the hitch of her breath he felt as his palm skated up her ribs. When he reached her breast she gasped and pressed up into his hand. Sam ran his thumb over her nipple, already obviously peaked, even through her bra, and she hummed and hooked an ankle around his waist. Abandoning all pretense, he yanked the collar of her shirt down and pushed her bra aside so he could get his mouth on her. Jess made a gratifying sound and pulled him tighter against her chest with a hand wrapped around his head. Her noises spurred him on and suddenly Sam couldn't make this happen fast enough. He had just managed to get the button on her ridiculously short cutoffs undone and was working his hand down the front of them when a buzzing from his back pocket disrupted his concentration.

"Sam!" Jess said, clearly none too pleased by the sudden halt of their progress.

"Hang on, I gotta get that."

“Are you serious? Just let it go to voicemail.”

“I can’t.”

He wasn't sure why he felt so adamant about answering this particular phone call, but the allure was overwhelming. He sat up and fished the phone out of his pocket. As soon as he was off her, Jess surged to her feet and stomped into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Sam didn't even notice, eyes riveted to the all-too familiar number on the display screen.

 _Dean_.

Most of the time, Sam did an admirable job of not thinking about the brother he had left behind. It was mostly self-preservation; he remembered the wounded look that had flashed across Dean’s face when he threw the bus tickets down on the table. If he thought about it too much, he would never be able to enjoy the independence that he had fought so hard for. If he started remembering those details, he might start dwelling on the old feelings that had terrified him enough to make his escape in the first place.

The phone was still ringing in his hand.

Sam swallowed past the anxious lump in his throat and answered.

“...hello?”

“Sam.” And there was Dean’s voice, rough in his ear. It warmed him up better than a shot of whiskey and Sam hated how his brother could still have this effect on him, even with two and half years, and thousands of miles between them. “How you doin’, kiddo?”

“What are you calling for, Dean?” Sam asked, more blunt than he’d meant to be.

“A guy can’t call his brother just to say hi?”

Sam frowned. “We haven’t spoken in two and a half years.”

Dean coughed, uncomfortable. “Yeah, well. Maybe that wasn’t a great idea.”

“What?”

“I’m just sayin’, man. It’s been a long time.” Dean said thickly. There was a thud and he cursed under his breath.

“Are you drunk?” Sam demanded, incredulous. Leave it to Dean to drunk dial him in the middle of the afternoon after nearly three years of radio silence.

“No!” Dean protested, and then groaned. “C’mon, Sammy. Can we not do this?”

“Do what?”

Dean didn’t say anything for a long moment. Sam gripped the phone, listening to his brother breathe. When he finally spoke again, he sounded so exhausted that it made Sam’s chest hurt. “Sammy, I don’t want to fight with you, okay?”

A tendril of unease started to creep into the back of Sam’s mind. “Dean, where are you? Where’s...Dad?”

A wet laugh. “I don’t even know, dude,” Dean said, and Sam wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his first or second question. “Some midwestern state. They’re all pretty much the same.”

“Are...are you okay?” Sam didn’t want to sound too worried, but he had to ask.

He could almost hear Dean’s smirk over the line. “Never better. How about you? How are your grades? Got a girlfriend?”

“Dean--” Sam wasn’t sure what he was about to say, but it didn’t really matter, because suddenly Dean started coughing loudly, right into the receiver. After a few moments, he broke off with a shaky breath.

“Gross. Sorry.” Dean’s voice dipped so low that Sam had to strain to hear him. “Listen, Sammy, I--I’m gonna have to go here in a second. You know…” he swallowed and in his mind's eye, Sam could see his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You know I love you, right Sammy?”

Sam’s stomach plummeted. “Dean, what’s going on?”

“Nothi--”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me man. I don’t hear a word from you for three years and then suddenly you call to tell me you love me? What’s happening? Where are you?” Sam was on his feet before he even realized it, pacing towards the door.

“Hey...” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper. “Don’t worry about it. Promise to take care of yourself.” He drew in a shaky breath. “Promise, Sammy?”

“Dean? Dean!”

There was no answer. Sam gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles went white. His legs gave out from under him and he fell to his knees.

“DEAN!”

  
Nothing but silence on the other end of the line.


End file.
